


Caught Under the Mistletoe

by Oreste_et_Pylade



Series: Santas and Sparklers [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Christmas, Courfeyrac kissing everyone, Courfeyrac the Matchmaker, Kissing, Modern AU, Sarcastic Enjolras, Shy Grantaire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 19:06:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9003766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oreste_et_Pylade/pseuds/Oreste_et_Pylade
Summary: At Christmas, both Enjolras and Courfeyrac are intent on getting Grantaire to kiss Enjolras under the mistletoe. Each is unaware of the other's plan.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally meant to be set in the canon era, but the research required was impossible and I wanted it to be a bit more light-hearted than usual (aka no-one dying). Then I was going to set it in France, but… again, research, and convenience. So it’s set in Poland – just letting you know so all you pedants out there don’t shoot me (sorry is it too soon?). Merry Christmas! Joyeux Noël! Wesołych Świąt!

Enjolras’ house was just about ready for Christmas.

‘Wait a minute, Enjolras,’ Courfeyrac called out. ‘Where’s the mistletoe?’

‘Mistletoe?’ Enjolras came out of the kitchen and joined Courfeyrac in the hallway, with a puzzled expression on his face.

‘No…’ Courfeyrac slowly shook his head in horror. ‘Don’t tell me... Enjolras, everyone will be arriving in about fifteen minutes!’

‘I’m sorry. I hadn’t thought of it,’ Enjolras lied. In fact, it was all he had been thinking about. He was calculating the probability of which order their friends were going to arrive in and where they were all going to stand. He was so busy with deciding what the best place to put the mistletoe was to catch Grantaire under it without looking suspicious, he had forgotten to actually buy it.

‘Now how am I going to kiss everyone?’ Courfeyrac’s whine interrupted his deliberations.

‘Come again?’

‘Christmas is the only chance I get without everyone looking at me weirdly.’ Enjolras could hear the pout in his voice.

‘I wonder why that is,’ Enjolras muttered under his breath. He knew that Courfeyrac didn’t expect him to care about the mistletoe and start talking about the symbolism of Christmas over stupid modern custom. He knew that’s what he should have said to avoid attracting attention, but he also cared about the mistletoe that year.

‘Fine. There’s a big tree right outside the fence. That’s where I used to get mistletoe with my parents when I was small.’

Courfeyrac’s eyes lit up.

‘Thank God!’ he exclaimed, then, glancing at the cross over the door: ‘Sorry’.

Enjolras rolled his eyes.

‘You can go get it then?’ Enjolras suggested casually, his lip curling.

‘Me?’ Courfeyrac asked in disbelief. ‘Me – climb a tree?’

‘Yep.’

‘I grew up in the city! Are you trying to kill me, Enjolras?’

‘Well, I’d be doing the world a service.’

Courfeyrac made a sound of mock indignation.

‘Have it your way then, Enjolras! If I die,’ Courfeyrac said grandly, ‘Your blood will be on your hands.’

He paused for a moment.

‘I mean my hand- blood. My blood. Your hands,’ he futilely tried to save his dignity while backing out of the room. ‘See you later’.

Enjolras managed to hide his smile until Courfeyrac left; then he burst out laughing. He went back into the kitchen, still smiling, and continued to decorate the bûche de Noël. Once he had done that, he checked all twelve of the dishes and added some lettuce for decoration around the fish. He triple-checked there was hay under the tablecloth and that the extra space at the table was laid.

He heard the front door slam and felt a freezing gust of air. Even from a distance, he could hear Courfeyrac grumbling.

‘I’m in the kitchen, come on in!’ he called out.

Courfeyrac had removed his shoes, but his socks were soaking wet from the snow.

‘Do you want to hear the good news or the bad news first?’ he asked.

‘Good news.’

‘I got the mistletoe.’ He produced a few bunches of mistletoe from behind his back.

‘And the bad news?’

Courfeyrac turned around with a sigh. Enjolras could not hide his laughter.

Courfeyrac had split his trousers.

‘Was it the fence?’ he asked once he could breathe again.

‘Yes. How did you know?’

‘I’ve done that in the past.’

Enjolras went upstairs, down the corridor and through the first door to his left. His room. He hadn’t really lived in his family’s house for a few years, since he started university, and for the previous five years he had spent most of his time in the city. His family only came back to the house at weekends.

There were posters from his favourite movies on the walls, and a spaceman duvet. When he thought about it, he really hadn’t changed much from his fifteen year old self. He opened his wardrobe and found it mostly empty. He didn’t keep any clothes there. He searched through countless too-small jumpers until he found the only pair of trousers he had that Courfeyrac could conceivably wear.

‘What. Is. This.’ Courfeyrac said through gritted teeth.

‘I haven’t worn them since I was fifteen,’ Enjolras explained.

‘That’s no excuse.’

Courfeyrac held the jeans out as far away as he could. They were embroidered with flowers, sequins and studs. His expression suddenly changed.

‘Wait, I know! As soon as Jehan arrives, I can swap with him. He’ll love these.’

‘How do you know the ones he’s wearing won’t be worse?’

Courfeyrac looked up, desperately.

‘Nothing can be worse than this.’

The doorbell rang. Courfeyrac grabbed the jeans and sprang into the bathroom.

The door swung open and Combeferre stepped in out of what Enjolras had only just noticed was a blizzard. He was promptly followed by Jehan. Enjolras noted that Jehan’s jeans were plain, although red, and gave the thumbs-up to Courfeyrac, who was now peering through the gap in the living room door.

Courfeyrac stuck his head out, and Combeferre and Jehan were just about to say hi to him when Courfeyrac hissed at Jehan.

‘In here. Now!’

Perplexed, Jehan swiftly made his way over to the door. Courfeyrac opened it for a fraction of a second and pulled Jehan in.

Courfeyrac’s voice was audible in the hall.

‘Take them off.’

Combeferre glanced concernedly at Enjolras, who gestured for him not to worry.

‘You’ll understand in a second,’ he whispered.

Courfeyrac entered the hall nonchalantly, followed by a shyly smiling Jehan who was obviously pleased with his trousers.

Combeferre saw him and grinned.

‘Let’s just not mention that, shall we?’ he glanced back at Enjolras.

‘Probably best.’

‘Aha!’ Combeferre was looking up. Enjolras spotted a bunch of mistletoe tied to the lamp. Courfeyrac must have put it there before he went to the kitchen.

Combeferre leaned forward and kissed Enjolras once on each cheek, which was the usual greeting in France. He was relieved, because – unlike Courfeyrac – he was not looking forward to kissing all of his friends. But then another thought struck him – surely Grantaire would do the same?

‘So, Courfeyrac, I see you’ve been helping Enjolras set up,’ Jehan said.

‘Yup, I’ve been super-helpful,’ Courfeyrac complimented himself.

‘Actually, you two, go on into the living room. I need your help putting the star on top of the Christmas tree. It’s really tall.’

‘Um-’ Enjolras tried to point out that Courfeyrac was as tall as the tree and could easily reach it, but Courfeyrac shushed him.

‘Help me out here, Enjolras, hang up the rest of this mistletoe.’ He turned back to go into the living room. ‘And don’t put it somewhere useless,’ he added.

As soon as the door was closed, both men sprang into action. On one side, Enjolras was rushing to hang the mistletoe up in the most strategic places, while on the other side Courfeyrac started explaining his plan to the other two.

‘Listen here. I am on a mission, and that mission is to get Enjolras and Grantaire to kiss. Tonight. It’s the perfect opportunity. Are you in?’

Jehan nodded immediately, but Combeferre looked hesitant.

‘Well, it drives me insane how Enjolras _just doesn’t notice_ the way Grantaire looks at him, but as much as I would love to stop that, has Grantaire agreed to this?’

‘Stupid!’ Jehan hit Combeferre’s arm playfully. ‘He doesn’t _know._ ’

‘Exactly!’ Courfeyrac grinned, baring all his shiny white teeth.

‘Ugh, I don’t like this,’ Combeferre complained, but from his tone of voice they could tell he had already admitted defeat.

‘I knew you’d see sense in the end.’ Jehan pinched Combeferre’s nose.

The doorbell rang again.

‘I’ll get it!’ Courfeyrac said excitedly, and sprinted to the door.

He opened it, revealing a shivering Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta.

‘Come in, come in,’ Courfeyrac gestured, then pointed up at the mistletoe in fake surprise and kissed all three of them in turn.

‘Go into the living room. Courfeyrac and Combeferre will explain what to do,’ Jehan said in a hushed voice, before greeting the three newcomers with kisses on the cheeks.

‘Now _that_ is how a normal person says hello!’ Bossuet smirked at Courfeyrac. ‘Just my luck _you_ opened the door,’ he grumbled as he led the way to the living room.

Gradually, everyone else arrived. Marius came with Cosette. They both had a stupidly dreamy look in their eyes and when they spotted the mistletoe they kissed each other, much to Courfeyrac’s dismay.

Enjolras sat on the stairs, waiting for the last guests to arrive, like the gracious host he was. He had been almost certain it would be Grantaire, but Grantaire arrived at the same time as Éponine. As Enjolras kissed her on the cheeks, Grantaire hovered by the threshold.

‘He’s probably unsure what to do,’ Courfeyrac whispered loudly so everyone except the three at the door could hear him. ‘Quick, we need to demonstrate.’

And so he pulled Jehan under the mistletoe and kissed him. Combeferre stepped forward threateningly.

‘I swear, Courfeyrac, if this is all some excuse to kiss my boyfriend-’

‘Oh shush,’ Courfeyrac put his finger to his lips. ‘Just to be sure, I guess you’re gonna have to kiss me too.

Combeferre gave him a death glare, but the amusement was visible behind his eyes. Courfeyrac let out a squeak of happiness and kissed him.

Far from being encouraged by this, Grantaire was absolutely terrified. Would he really be able to kiss Enjolras?

Enjolras was equally terrified, however his face revealed nothing. In his eyes, Grantaire looked like that because he was horrified at the idea of kissing him.

They both tried to get out of it and went for the other’s cheek at the same time. They missed each other by a mile and ended up in an awkward hug. Inside, they were both screaming like dying cows.

Courfeyrac looked like he was trying to gauge his eyes out, and he wasn’t the only one. Everyone except of course Marius and Cosette, who were blissfully oblivious to everything that was going on, was having a similar reaction. At that humiliating moment, they all decided to join Courfeyrac’s cause whole-heartedly.

*     *     *

Everyone except Enjolras was drinking, bored out of their minds waiting for the first star to appear. None of them really cared about the custom, but they were unsure if Enjolras did, and didn’t want to risk one of his rants.

Enjolras was also bored, staring at the sky intently out of the kitchen window. The first twenty minutes had been fun, but now everyone was starving. He suddenly realised why it was so quiet. Grantaire was nowhere to be seen.

‘Does anyone know where Grantaire is?’ he asked, and, unnoticed by him, all his friends’ ears pricked up.

‘No. But let’s face it, this is Grantaire. Wherever he is, he’ll be drinking,’ Bahorel said, and everyone smirked.

‘I’d better find him. We’ll be lucky if he’s still conscious.’ With that, Enjolras left the room.

The others were suddenly animated.

‘Do you think he’s worried about him?’ Cosette asked hopefully.

‘I don’t think so,’ Joly replied gravely.

‘He always disdains him,’ Combeferre added. There was a pause.

‘What if- you know?’ Bossuet mumbled quietly.

‘What?’ Marius turned towards him sharply.

‘Well… What if he doesn’t like him?’

The room was silent.

‘Well, I’ve got to admit…’ Courfeyrac said slowly, ‘I hadn’t thought of that.’

For a moment it looked like the others were going to turn against him, but Jehan came to the rescue.

‘That’s not true!’ he exclaimed. ‘Look, we all know Grantaire loves him. Not just likes him, he absolutely venerates him. He’d die for him and Enjolras knows it. Call me a poet, but no matter how cold Enjolras sometimes _seems,_ ’ – he emphasised the last word – ‘it’s simply impossible not to feel anything at all for someone who cares about you that much.’

Éponine bit her lip and looked down at her feet suddenly, her nails digging into her palms. Cosette looked slowly from her to Marius, whose facial expression hadn’t changed at all. She felt a surge of guilt and gently slid out from under Marius’ arm, folding her hands on her lap.

‘Well said!’ Marius called out, oblivious to all that had happened to his side. He smiled warmly at Cosette, who forced a smile back at him, then quickly dropped her gaze.

In the dining room, adjacent to the living room, Grantaire was kneeling by the crèche and playing with the figures. Joseph was being shouted at by the baker, then chased by the policeman. Grantaire smirked to himself as he thought of how Enjolras would react to this blasphemy.

Enjolras cleared his throat and Grantaire froze. He dropped Joseph, who landed at the feet of the priest. He turned around slowly and looked up at Enjolras, who was standing right behind him. He didn’t look impressed, but he didn’t look angry either.

‘There you are,’ he said with a fake air of indifference. Grantaire suddenly felt very small. Enjolras’ eyes skirted over the crèche and fell on Grantaire’s untouched glass of wine. He crouched down beside Grantaire.

‘Grantaire?’ Enjolras’ brow furrowed.

‘Yeah?’ Grantaire answered quietly.

‘You haven’t touched your wine.’

‘So?’ He pretended, unconvincingly, not to understand.

‘That is rather unusual.’ Enjolras still was half-expecting Grantaire to be hiding a bottle somewhere.

‘I guess.’

‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing.’ Neither of them believed him.

‘Are you ill?’ Enjolras pushed Grantaire’s tangled curls up and placed a hand on his forehead.

He was about to say that he was fine, but he didn’t want to give Enjolras yet another reason to be annoyed at him. Enjolras watched him expectantly.

‘I’m just bored. I want to join everyone else.’

‘Then what’s stopping you?’

‘Nothing, I guess,’ he sighed and got up.

As soon as Enjolras opened the door to the kitchen, he saw everyone staring at him in silence. He got the feeling they had stopped talking suddenly.

‘Oh look!’ Jehan exclaimed excitedly, pointing out of the window. ‘The first star is out!’

‘About bloody time…’ Bahorel grumbled.

‘Let’s eat, then!’ Marius said brightly.

*     *     *

They sat at the long table, slightly squished.

‘Enjolras,’ Bossuet started.

‘No.’

‘Oh, come on, we’ve never had a stranger arrive, ever. Just imagine how much more space there would be if a couple of people sat at the end of the table.’

‘No.’ Enjolras’ decision was final.

Combeferre kept sneezing. Joly looked at him suspiciously and edged closer to Bossuet on his other side.

‘Don’t worry, Joly, it’s not the plague,’ Jehan smiled. ‘It’s just hay fever.’

‘If he has hay fever, how does he spend time frolicking in the meadows or whatever it is you hippies do?’ Grantaire teased.

‘I have medicine,’ Combeferre answered. ‘Just I didn’t take it, because IT’S WINTER!’

‘Why are you sneezing, then?’ Enjolras was confused. ‘Is it the tree?’

‘No, it’s the literal hay right under my nose.’

‘Oh, I forgot about that. We can get rid of it.’

‘Excuse me?’ Bossuet couldn’t believe his ears. ‘But tradition-’

‘Laigle, you should know me well enough to know I am against things like tradition.’

‘But the empty space-’

‘Shush.’

‘Unbelievable.’ Bossuet shuddered as he drank some borsch instead of mulled wine.

‘What was that sound?’ Éponine interjected.

‘I didn’t hear anything.’ Enjolras replied.

‘It was like a knocking sound.’

As everyone was silent, they heard the second, louder knock. Enjolras stood up and went to the door.

‘It looks like we have an unexpected guest,’ Grantaire leaned forward with a grin.

‘Has that ever happened to anyone before?’ said Bossuet.

Everyone shook their heads.

‘No,’ said Joly darkly, ‘but I heard about it from an old classmate’s cousin. He said someone came and asked for money. When they refused, they stormed out and kicked the fence down.’

Enjolras came into the room as they eyed him suspiciously, expecting a dangerous looking man to follow him. As much as they loved Enjolras and admired how he wanted to help everyone, he sometimes did things of questionable safety. They were surprised when a little boy followed. Éponine gasped.

‘Who are you?’ Feuilly asked after a moment’s pause.

Éponine didn’t give him a chance to answer.

‘Gavroche!’ she cried in a concerned voice and embraced him. She turned back to her confused friends.

‘This is my little brother, Gavroche. He lives with our… parents.’ She looked troubled at the last word. ‘Do you mind if we, uh-?’

‘Yeah, sure, you can go into the kitchen,’ Enjolras broke out of his daze with a start.

Éponine led Gavroche there, steering him by his shoulders.

‘Was it them?’ She asked quietly, once no one could hear them.

Gavroche nodded.

‘Bad?’

‘Really bad.’

Éponine sighed and pulled her brother close.

‘Look, we’d better go back in. We can think about what to do later. Maybe one of my friends can help us. A few of them are lawyers.’

‘Éponine, I’m not going back.’

‘But- but what about the others?’

‘They’re not there anymore,’ Gavroche said darkly. ‘Someone at school saw their bruises. They’ve been taken away. I wasn’t at home then, and mum and dad pretended I didn’t exist. They’ll probably find me soon though. Mum and dad are going to be taken to court.’

Éponine was silent for a while, processing the information.

‘Then I- ok, then. You can come with me.’

Gavroche hugged her round the middle, and she carried him back to the dining room. She set him down by the empty chair.’

‘Sit,’ Éponine commanded. ‘And eat.’

Gavroche didn’t need telling twice. He piled food onto his plate, Grantaire passing him dishes with a smile.

Once everyone had finished, Bahorel spoke.

‘Presents?’ he smiled sheepishly.

‘Of course!’ Courfeyrac practically jumped up and ran to the Christmas tree. ‘First, all the presents from me.’

‘As long as they don’t include more kissing,’ grumbled Musichetta to Bossuet.

*     *     *

Easily the most nervous about how their presents were going to be received were Enjolras and Grantaire. Both of their hearts were in their throats when it was Grantaire’s turn to open his present from Enjolras. It was big, squishy, and wrapped extremely neatly in silver wrapping paper tied with a green ribbon.

‘Slytherin, huh?’ Grantaire winked.

He unwrapped the present as carefully as he could, not wanting to rip any of the paper. Onto his lap slid a long, hand-knitted scarf. It was red and yellow and had a crest with a lion on it.

‘Gryffindor...’ Grantaire was slightly surprised and flattered.

‘Thank you, Enjolras,’ and he wrapped the scarf around his neck multiple times; it still trailed on the floor.

Enjolras obviously hadn’t expected an outburst of emotion from Grantaire when he received his present, but was still relieved when he saw Grantaire snuggling his face in the scarf.

Grantaire had put a lot of work into Enjolras’ present and hoped Enjolras would like it as much as he expected. He waited anxiously as Enjolras unwrapped it.

It was an A4 black scrapbook; its pages were all filled. Enjolras flicked through it gently and it dawned on him.

‘No… way…’ Enjolras looked as if he had forgotten about everyone else in the room. ‘You did this?’ Grantaire nodded. ‘For me? Seriously?’

‘ _Siriusly_ ,’ Grantaire grinned.

Enjolras flung his arms around Grantaire’s neck and knocked him over onto the floor.

‘ _There’s hope yet!_ ’ Courfeyrac mouthed to Cosette.

‘What even is it?’ Bahorel picked up the scrapbook suspiciously and the others crowded round him. It was a collection of primary sources about the June Rebellion.

‘Oh my God,’ said Combeferre. They all looked up and were amazed to see that Enjolras hadn’t died of happiness yet.

*     *     *

As they left later that night, not everything was fixed. Courfeyrac wasn’t sure what he would do about Enjolras and Grantaire. Éponine wasn’t sure what she would do with Gavroche long-term. Cosette wasn’t sure what she would do to help Éponine. Marius was still blissfully unaware that anything had to be done. But it was fine. There was still New Year.

‘Grantaire!’ Enjolras opened the door and called him back just after he had left.

‘Yeah?’ Grantaire jogged back to the door.

‘You forgot your scarf.’

‘Did I?’ Grantaire subconsciously reached up to his neck, where he found his Gryffindor scarf.

‘Not that scarf. The one you had when you came in.’ He passed him a grey woollen scarf.

 ‘Thanks’.

‘Mistletoe,’ Enjolras blurted out.

‘Huh?’

Enjolras pointed up. He smiled shyly.

‘Well, this time let’s get it right.’

They kissed once on each cheek.

‘Merry Christmas, Grantaire.’

‘Merry Christmas, Enjolras.’


End file.
